things we lost
by ohmygodwhy
Summary: Few times in his life has Iroh been truly afraid. —iroh, zuko, and sickness of the soul


warning for implied sexual abuse

* * *

Few times in his life has Iroh been truly afraid.

Zuko is trembling, burning up and shivering under the thin blanket, yanked violently in and out of consciousness and barely coherent. He looks entirely too small. And Iroh is afraid, terrified, to admit: rarely has he seen someone get this sick and live.

Fear, he's dealt with; he has been afraid before (when he was told his son was dead, the white hot terror and denial that came with it. When he turned away and heard only screams echoing through the arena, marking the end of the Agni Kai. When Zuko's ship exploded and he was too far away, when Zuko was coughing and half-drowned and half-conscious and somehow still breathing. When Azula turned out to be just as terrible as her father (if Ozai has broken Zuko then he's done worse to her, twisted her up and molded her into a poised and pointed knife; he has lived too many years to put the blame solely on her). When Zuko collapses on their apartment floor, skin too-hot, even for a firebender.) but sheer _uncertainty_ is something he's never really liked.

He is no stranger to illness. He's seen soldiers get sick before, die of sickness before, and he's seen sickness of the soul before. But rarely has he seen someone get this sick and live.

(And he can't lose another son— _not another one, please not another one, not this one._ )

Iroh is afraid.

-;-

He is afraid, and he is frightened, shocked, when Zuko stirs a day and a night into his sickness, wiping at his eyes and blinking up at the ceiling. Iroh calls his name gently, the boy's head lolls towards him at the sound of his voice, and— his eyes shoot open when he sees Iroh- _fear,_ startling fear- and he is sitting up and scooting back hurriedly, quicker than should be possible for someone this sick with a weak "I'm sorry."

"Zuko?" Iroh asks again on reflex, confused, and Zuko _flinches_ , his whole body spasming as if the word hurts him, lifting an arm like he's expecting a blow, inching back until he's pressed against the wall.

"I'm _sorry,_ " he says again, arms curling around himself, one at his head and another wrapping around his torso, clutching like his life depends on it, like it's the only thing holding him together, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again please I'm sorry— _please_ , Father— please please it hurts _please._ "

Over and over again like a mantra, voice shaking and cracking and so small, like he's a twelve year old boy again— delirious from the fever, surely, bringing out memories and twisting them around and Iroh feels vaguely nauseous, watching his nephew pull tighter and tighter into himself, whispered _don't's_ and the realization hits Iroh like an angry earthbender.

Zuko quiets down eventually, slumping against the wall when he drifts back to sleep. Iroh lies him back down gently, gently, and wonders how much he's missed.

-;-

When Zuko finally wakes up, fever burned out (barely, just barely— there had been a frightening stretch of time where his pulse was barely fluttering under his fingers and his breath was shallow and his body was limp, that Iroh had been sure, he'd been _sure_ he'd lost another son), Iroh sits.

Waits for his nephew to sit up. Doesn't know what to say. He feels old, too old, his revelation settling on his shoulders and crushing him.

"Uncle?" Zuko rasps.

And all he can says is: "I didn't know," quietly, pleadingly.

Zuko furrows his eyebrows, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"I didn't know," he says again, and Zuko eyes widen with vague understanding, vague fear, vague _something_. "I didn't know; I'm so sorry."

His nephew flinches when he reaches out, touching his shoulder, his neck, cupping his face lightly, looking at him like he hasn't seen him in years, "My boy, my beautiful boy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

Zuko looks like he wants to run, or cry, or both, and Iroh pulls him carefully into a hug.

"I didn't _know._ "

Zuko doesn't speak. Doesn't return the hug. Just buries his face in Iroh's shoulder and deflates against him, and Iroh's fears are confirmed.

He's never been angrier with Ozai, never been more afraid of him, never felt this level of _hatred_ before, never felt so guilty (he's failed his sons, he always does), so angry with himself.

Zuko's shoulders shake.

 _I didn't know._

Iroh is afraid.


End file.
